


The 5 Senses

by to_busy_daydreaming



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, No use of y/n, Star Wars - Freeform, hey thats the same premise twice, if you cant tell I wrote this before mando lost the crest and the kid, might have made up one or two things about mando culture, so the ship and the baby are here to stay, the mandalorain, this is my first fic so here you go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29205264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/to_busy_daydreaming/pseuds/to_busy_daydreaming
Summary: You and your Mandalorian partner have been together for some time now, and it's nice to reflect on how it came to be.
Relationships: The Mandalorian/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47





	1. Smell

The planet was named Vaponus. It was sparsely populated, and hidden at the very edge of a far off parsec. Its vegetation was a bright red and its water, a deep blue. It was the shining jewel in the crown of its solar system. Vaponus’ residents were a kind and quiet people who never caused any trouble. They never seemed to do much of anything, really. No imports, no exports and no real connection with the rest of the galaxy. They kept to themselves and weren’t overly noteworthy.

But being so covert had its disadvantages. It meant that those with something to run from often found themselves hiding there. What they ran from differed from person to person, but it didn’t matter. Whether they ran from their lives, themselves or the law, Vaponus became the perfect hiding spot. It was why you had found yourself in this safe haven.

You weren't one of the runners. You had found this planet on a whim, fell in love with it and decided to call it home. You were only a child then and were desperate for somewhere safe to settle. A kind transport flyer offered to let you ride with the cargo before getting off. Being so young, you were welcomed with open arms by the little village you stumbled upon. They took you in and made sure you had everything you needed and more. Life was good for the first time in a long time.

When you were old enough, you started working at the local cantina. You had become accustomed to the loud and rowdy people that walked through the doors and was always ready for it. You had also gotten used to the smells. Potent alcohol that bleached your nose hairs, spice smoke and trekked in dirt were the nice ones. It may not have smelled pretty, but it became a bit of a comfort. Like a messed up, lived-in home you could always rely on.

The odd bar fight broke out, but most of the time patrons kept to themselves. Both locals and travellers alike would sit at your bar or one of the side booths on the far side of the room. You had become very good with faces, which made shmoozing for extra credits that much easier. It also made identifying outsiders easier, too,

He was easy to spot. Not just because you didn’t recognize his face, but because it was completely hidden. A silver helmet, made of beskar no doubt, concealed it from view. The black, t-shaped visor your only hope of catching even a glimpse. You had never had a Mandalorian sit at one of your booths before. In all honesty, you thought they had died out. The Empire’s attack on Mandalore was apocalyptic and left them scattered with dwindling numbers. It was one of the many crimes you wished the Empire could have paid for, but there wasn’t much one person could do.

When you weren’t serving someone, you would find yourself staring at the Mandalorian. You had so many questions you wanted to ask him, but you also didn’t want to bother him. Being caught between a rock and a hard place was always difficult. Your limited knowledge of the Mandalorians came from the books Vaponus was lucky enough to get their hands on. The Mandalorians were not a people, but a creed. A religion. They were fierce warriors who you didn’t want to get on the wrong side of. They were proud, community-oriented and the best hunters in the galaxy.

Your Mandalorian patron didn’t seem like he was looking for a place to live on Vaponus. No, it was more like he was looking for someone. A bounty that was probably worth a substantial amount of credits. He had been sitting in his booth for almost an hour and hadn’t moved a muscle. If you didn’t know any better, you were sure that he was trying to blend in with the plush seat. You wondered who he was waiting for, and what they did to have a Mandalorian after them.

Your question was answered when the front door of the cantina swung open with a flourish and a barking laugh filled the lobby. A Dressellian sauntered his way past the booths and tables, completely ignorant to the predatory gaze that was locked onto him. Gats was his name, and he was one of your most frequent customers. You typically passed him on to any male co-worker you worked with since he seemed to have an almost obsessive interest in you.

The Mandalorian went stiff as soon as Gats stepped foot into the room. Combined with his steely gaze, you guessed that Gats was the next poor bastard on the Mandalorain’s list. You didn’t mind this, of course. You were grateful that there would be a little more peace in your village. You couldn’t help wondering about what Gats had done. Murder? Robbery? A runaway that was wanted alive? Vaponus was more of a “don’t ask don’t tell” planet when it came to the runners, so the fire of your curiosity had never been truly extinguished.

Gats paraded himself over to the part of the bar run by your co-worker, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. You grabbed one of the glasses from the shelf behind you and one of the hanging rags. You wiped down your glass, trying your best to make yourself look busy. You were looking at the Mandalorian again, watching him watching Gats. He still hadn’t moved, acting like he didn’t want to be seen. You figured it would be difficult for him since he was coated head to toe in beskar that reflected the dull ceiling lights. But Gats hadn’t seen him. He was too busy chatting the ears off some poor Bothan trying to mind his own business.

Gats was drinking like a monster. You didn’t know if he was drinking to forget something, or if he was drinking to celebrate. About an hour and all the credits he had on him later, Gats was thoroughly intoxicated. He was babbling incoherently about some war he fought in that you knew was a pile of bantha dung. When you heard him announce loudly that he was heading home, you felt your heart soar. That was always the best part of the night. The next best part was clocking out and going home. Luckily for you, those two events happened in tandem that night. 

When you came out from the back, both Gats and the Mandalorian were gone. You were ashamed to admit that you felt a little disappointed. Just spotting a Mandalorian was the most interesting thing that’s happened to you during your time on Vaponus. You bid goodnight to the cantina’s midnight shift before stepping out into the chill of the night air. The dirt road that connected your workplace to rest downtown was dark like it always was that time of day. Dim light emanated from the closed shops lining both sides of the street. It was the most empty time of day; Like nobody had ever been there.

There was a side road, hidden in between a clothing store and a food market. You took it to and from work every day, making your commute that much quicker. You neared the buildings while rifling through your bag, double-checking that none of the runners had gotten sneaky. There came a scuffling sound and two men grunting, accompanied by scraping metal and objects clanging. You slowed your pace, still walking toward the commotion. Much to your dismay, it was coming from the ally you needed to walk down.

Your curiosity got the better of you, so you peaked your head around the corner. Two unmistakable figures, Gats and the Mandalorian were going at each other like two extremely angry, feral animals. The bounty hunter would throw a punch, only to be drunkenly blocked by Gats. Even if the Mandalorian was the better fighter, he was on Gats’ turf and sometimes skill was no match for dumb luck. The two seemed evenly matched, throwing each other around the ally and knocking over garbage and giving each other bruises that would be large and ugly. 

After a few more hits, Gats got the upper hand. The Mandalorian stumbled, giving his opponent the opening he needed to grab the Mandalorian’s leg and get him to the ground. You didn’t know this Mandalorian, his story or what he was like, but something in you snapped watching the fight. You weren’t sure if it was your bleeding heart or the part of you that was always itching for a fight, but something caused you to throw down your bag and run at the pair. 

You launched yourself at Gats, latching onto his back like some prehistoric primate. Gats let out a guttural scream and started to reach behind himself in a pitiful attempt to grab you. He swayed dangerously, teetering on his unbalanced feet. The Mandalorian got back on his feet, drawing back Gats’ attention. He went for the bounty hunter with you still holding onto his back for dear life. He threw a punch at the Mandalorian, who easily dodged it. With his drunken state and the added weight of you on his back, it made fighting a little more difficult.

Gats flew past the Mandalorian and collided with the brick wall practically face first. It stunned him, and caused him to stumble backwards from the shock. You tightened your grip around Gats’ neck and pulled. His stumbling got worse, and he threw out his arms to try and regain some of his balance. But a stray bag of garbage knocked over from the earlier scuffle was Gat’s undoing. The two of you went tumbling down to the hard, unforgiving ground below.

You became a cushion. Gats’ entire body weight fell onto you, knocking the air out of your lungs. While you were trying to recover your lost breath, Gats was getting back up, and now he had his sights set on you. Two hands clamped down on your throat before you could get a second breath in. Gats started yelling at you, calling you names that only angry, drunken men called you when you cut them off. You clawed at his hands in a vain attempt to get him off you. You kicked and punched and scratched, used every trick you had to fight. The few seconds you couldn’t breathe felt like eons. You didn’t want to sound dramatic, but you were sure you would have died there.

The sound of a blaster shot echoed off the walls of the ally. It was so loud and so sudden that you would have jumped if you weren’t being attacked. Gats then went stiff and loosened his grip on your throat. He sat on your body for another beat, before fully losing his balance and falling to his side and off of you. You rolled onto your side and gasped for air for the second time in under ten minutes. That had to be some kind of record.

“Are you alright?”

The Mandalorian’s voice was modulated. The helmet hid not only his face but the raw emotion of his voice. You rolled back over to look at him and gave him a thumbs-up before speaking.

“Yeah, I’m...I’m good. Wanted to do that for ages,” you said. It wasn’t a complete lie. You really did want to fight Gats.

The Mandalorian extended a gloved hand out to you, which you took gratefully. He pulled you to your feet, discreetly checking you for wounds as you dusted yourself off. You looked over to where Gats was laying watching him twitch involuntarily every so often. So, he wasn’t dead after all. Too bad.

“You alright?” you asked.

The Mandalorian’s helmet snapped back to you when you spoke. It happened so fast you were worried you had crossed a line. You got a nod in response. Added to the list of things you know about Mandalorians: they were a people of few words. Or this one was, at least. He had already begun to collect his target, straining a little under Gats’ weight. He wasn’t the lightest man around. Without a word, you went over and helped the Mandalorian pick Gats up. A pathetic groan left him as he was lifted.

The bounty hunter looked over to you with a cock of his helmet, silently questioning your actions. He had one of Gats’ arms slung over his shoulders, so you copied the action.

“We’ve wanted him gone since he got here. You taking him away makes you a hero in my books,” you laughed.

Once again, silence was the Mandalorian’s response. Since he didn’t tell you to leave or shoot you, you figured that he was at leadt somewhat grateful for the help. You, the Mandalorian and an unconscious Gats made your way into the night and the general direction of the bounty hunter’s ship. Vaponus’ two moons shone brightly in the sky, illuminating the less traversed path you seemed to be taking. 

After about half an hour into your moonlit hike, you decided to break the deafening silence.

“So, Mandalorian,” you started, “what’s your name?”

Once again, no response. But this silence was more of a pause than a refusal to speak. He repositioned his grip on Gats before he finally spoke.

“You can call me Mando. Everyone else seems to,” he said with a finality that kept you from prying further.

“Alright then, Mando. It’s nice to meet you.”

You then told him your name and jokingly welcomed him to Vaponus. You got a nod of his helmet, followed by more silence. It only drove you a little nuts, but not enough to push. After a short trek through a forest, you came upon a hidden clearing. Sticking out like a sore thumb against the red trees was a large, rickety looking ship. From where you were standing, you could tell that it was very old and falling apart. You wondered why the Mandalorian didn’t use his bounty money to buy a new one. Maybe it was the sentimental value of it that made him keep it.

The Mandalorian shifted Gats again, this time was so that he could reach a control panel hidden in the armour of his arm. The press of a few buttons caused a large ramp on the side of the ship to open with hisses and groans. When it finally touched the ground, the Mandalorian stepped forward, taking you and Gats with him.

The belly of the Mandalorian’s ship was cramped but sparse. There were a few boxes scattered about, most likely containing rations. There was a small privy hidden away at the far end of the ship, right beside a small door that opened to something in the wall. The air smelled stale and recycled, and there was a trace of blaster residue hanging in the air. But the most interesting thing on board was the carbonite freezer. That was something you hadn’t expected to see. That, and the four or so other quarries that had been frozen, expressions of fear and rage decorating their faces. 

You helped haul Gats to this freezer, giving him fully to the Mandalorian to let him do what he wanted. Gats was unceremoniously tossed into the freezer, where a nice carbonite shower froze him like a statue. He was just as ugly frozen as he was when he was walking and talking.

You leaned against the wall, watching the Mandalorian work. Travelling the galaxy and chasing down people for money? It didn’t sound like the safest profession in the world, but it sure sounded interesting. You could see planets and people that you could only dream about. As much as you loved Vaponus, there was only so much to do there. You could go to the library or the cantina, but that grew old fast. You were pulled from your travelling thoughts by a modulated voice calling your name.

“Thank you for your help. You have to be pretty brave or pretty stupid to pull a stunt like that,” said the Mandalorian.

“You know what? I’m gonna take that as a compliment. You’re very welcome, Mandalorian.”

You grinned up at him, large and genuine.

“You always throw yourself into fights like that?” he asked.

“Only when I have to.”

You got another nod of the helmet before he turned his attention back to a large, sidewall compartment. Hidden in it was a massive cabinet filled to the brim with guns and blasters of all sorts. The Mandalorian was careful and precise with each weapon like they were more to him than just guns or a deadly means to an end. They seemed more precious than that. You made a note to not even look at them without his say so.

“You good with kids?”

You raised an eyebrow. A question like that was far from what you had expected. In all fairness, you didn’t know what to expect with a Mandalorian, but it certainly wasn’t the subject of children.

“Uhh...yeah. I love kids,” you said.

Another nod of the helmet. You were getting a little sick and tired of his lack of words, but you wouldn’t dare voice that. The Mandalorian closed his weapons cabinet, the metal doors letting out a loud groan as they moved. The Mandalorian then went to the ladder on the far end of the ship, saying he would be back in a moment. He went up into the cockpit and disappeared. 

You sat down on one of the crates nearby, thinking that was one of the few things you could do without getting in trouble. You let out a sigh and took another look around the room you were in. It had this weird, homey feeling that caught you off guard. The metal walls made the ship feel secure and safe, even with frozen quarries stacked neatly in a row. But as inviting as it felt, the ship also felt empty. A man adrift amongst the stars, alone against the unforgiving void and space and the anger of bounties. You felt for him, in a way.

A soft pitter-patter across the metal floor echoed around the small room you sat in. You frantically looked around, trying to pinpoint what was making the noise. You prayed to any god listening that the noise wasn’t from a part of the ship falling apart that you could be blamed for. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a blur of movement from behind one of the crates. You stared at the spot, wondering what else the Mandalorian was hiding on his ship.

A large, green ear poked out from its hiding spot, followed by a pair of large, dark eyes and a second green ear. It certainly looked like a child, but its face was wrinkly and looked like it belonged to an elderly person. They were so little that you were worried their ears were too big, and they would lose balance and fall if they walked. They stared intently at you from their hiding spot, feeling like their eyes were looking directly into your soul. There was this pull to him that you couldn’t explain. Like there was some invisible force urging you to go to him.

The child walked out of his hiding spot. His clothes looked like they were nothing more than a sack. His walk wasn’t much more than a waddle, and his tiny legs were only so big. His questioning gaze didn’t leave you as he slowly walked over to where you were sitting, stopping just shy of your feet. His little arms, stretching as far as they could, reached out for you, requesting to be picked up. You nervously, but happily, did as he asked and placed him on your lap.

“Well, hello there, little one,” you mused.

You tilted your head to the side, mimicking the green child. He tilted his head in the same direction, copying you copying him. You tilted your head to the other side and once again, he copied. You smiled down at him, enjoying his babyish charm. He returned the smile with the biggest, toothiest grin he could give. You paused for a moment, tapping into what you remembered children liked. You gave the child another smile, before hiding your face behind your hands. You removed your hands dramatically, exposing the silly face you were making. The child descended into hysterics, clapping his tiny hands together. 

The action was repeated a couple more times, each time eliciting the same response. The child laughed so hard you were a little worried he’d throw up. The sound of a throat clearing nearly made you launch out of your seat. The Mandalorian stood a few feet away from you and the child, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest. It seemed that Mandalorians were also masters of moving without making a sound. You attempted to reign in your nerves before speaking.

“He’s so cute! Is he yours?”

“Not biologically. He’s a founding. I am his protector until he is of age, or I find his people.”

You looked back down at the small child, who was staring up at you like you were worth a million credits. He had one of your fingers in both of his tiny, three-fingered hands. It was that moment that you decided you would kill and die for the little green baby. His overly large ears and eyes were enough to hypnotize anyone into doing his bidding. He was extremely cute in an ugly sort of way.

“He likes you,” the Mandalorian noted.

Unconsciously, you began to bounce the child on your knee. His giggles started up again, obviously pleased with the attention. The child then looked over at the Mandalorian, as if to say: look how much fun I’m having!

“I could use someone who’s good with the kid. Watch over him while I’m gone. Protect him.”

The Mandalorian’s words bounced around in your head and took a minute to really sink in. Was he insinuating what you think he was? If so, why would be asking you? Entrusting someone he just met not even two hours ago with not only his ship but his child? You appreciated the trust he already seemed to have in you.

“Are you...are you offering me a job?"

“I can pay you handsomely. Food on the table, a place to sleep.”

“You’re offering me a job,” you said, matter of factly.

You began to think about the Mandalorian’s offer and what you would be leaving behind. You had a cozy little cabin on the outskirts of town. Your three neighbours would host parties on holidays and ask you for baking ingredients every so often. Your job at the cantina, where the patrons knew you and you loved your coworkers. The sunsets reflecting off the red trees and the purple skies. You had built quite the life for yourself on Vaponus, far from the days of being a stowaway. 

“So, you’ll stay?”

You stood up and gently placed the child where you had been sitting, giving his head a little pet. He cooed happily, watching you and the Mandalorian. You turned to the Mandalorian, who was now standing up straight, his gaze locked firmly on you. You closed the gap between you with just a few strides and held your hand out for him to take.

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

The Mandalorian reached a gloved hand out to you, both of you clapping each other’s forearms tightly. You grinned at your new partner, hoping he was at least half as excited as you were.


	2. Sound

You and the Mandalorian had fallen into a comfortable routine. You would play house spouse, making sure both the child and his ship, the Razor Crest, were well taken care of. Whenever you needed to go shopping, you would have a little back and forth; You would beg to go, he’d say no, you’d argue that you and the child needed to get out, he’d still say no. He’d relent most of the time, finally allowing you and the little green one to tag along. The Mandalorian wouldn’t admit it, but you knew he enjoyed your family shopping trips.

The past few months had been the textbook definition of peaceful. Nothing eventful happened other than you fixing up a few circuits here and there and organizing storage. Who knew the Mandalorian had so many guns? He explained weapons were a religious thing, but at the time you thought he was joking. The kid kept you company, babbling to you and playing “how fast can I give my new friend a hernia?” by hiding in different places on the Crest. Peaceful and domestic as could be.

But that was what it looked like from the outside. On the inside, your heart rate had not slowed in nearly a week and you were descending into panic’s warm embrace. The Mandalorian had left four days and three hours ago, saying he’d be back by nightfall. Your partner was the most skilled bounty hunter you had ever met, but you needed luck and skill to stay in one peace out there. When you weren’t letting the kid play in the grass outside, the Crest’s ground security protocols were in place, so it was the safest place you could be.

But you didn’t feel safe. 

No, you felt safe when your partner was home. Not just because he could kill anyone trying to get you before they could even see you. It was also the atmosphere of it all. When you had your Mandalorian and your kid with you, you felt like you could take on the world. They had become family, and you loved them more than anything. It also meant that you worried about their safety constantly.   
Having a force-sensitive child that fed off your emotions made things a little difficult. You had to fight the urge to worry until he was asleep since you would only worry them. It was the only thing that kept you from spiralling. When the baby was down and you were alone with your thoughts, things never ended well. You had complete faith in your partner and were sure the bay door would open any second, revealing the beskar clad man and the poor soul with him.

But you couldn’t stop how you felt. The fear and the worry crawled up your throat like bile, making it feel like it was on fire. You had paced the ship’s large storage room for so long, you were sure that you had created a small rut in the metal. It kept you grounded, and also kept you from grabbing one of the Mandalorian’s guns and going after him yourself. It was an idea that you had been debating on for the past two days and started to sound more and more appealing. It wasn’t abnormal for your partner to be gone for longer than he thought, but never for this long.

The Razor Crest could only be opened from the inside or from the remote hidden in the Mandalorian’s armour, so when the bay door loudly announced it was opening, you could have cried out of relief. As the door fell further and further down, you felt a sense of peace begin to replace all the unease that had been plaguing you for days. And when you finally saw the shine of silver beskar staring back up at you, you swore your knees turned to jelly.

Being dragged by the Mandalorian was the bounty that had kept him from you. She was a Barabel who looked like someone you didn’t want to mess with. The fact that she was knocked out brought you a sense of pride, knowing that the fierce fighter couldn’t best your partner. She was sporting several cuts, some bruises still forming and a wicked black eye. You would have felt a little bad for her if she were not the reason for your continuous worrying.

The Mandalorian angrily shoved the bounty into the carbonite freezer and pushed the button to activate it. Harsh jets dispersed a shower of liquid that hardened instantly, encasing the bounty and leaving her completely immobile and harmless. Now that you and your partner were alone, you felt three days worth of emotions bubbling up into your chest, dying to get out. Worry, fear and anger were screamed the loudest, congealing into one big emotion that made you feel...hurt.

“Where the hell have you been?” you snapped. 

When you got no response, you continued.

“Three days, Mando. Three days of pacing around this ship worried out of my mind. You could have sent a message over the comlink letting me know you were going to be gone. But no! No, you let me stay here pulling my hair out and tossing in turning in bed thinking about you. I was about five seconds away from going after you myself, and-”

The Mandalorian buckled, almost collapsing to the ground under his own weight. He was able to catch himself on his knee, but he was wobbly. You shouted out his name in alarm and ran over to him. You kept him steady, but it didn’t seem like he could keep his balance for much longer. You gently lowered him to the floor of the Crest, still calling out to him. He groaned as he went down as if any movement pained him. You frantically started to remove your partner’s armour, only taking care when placing them on the floor beside you. 

The thermal shirt the Mandalorian wore underneath had a large tear trailing up his side, exposing an even deeper gash on his body. His breathing was slow, laboured, ragged and it rattled you to the core. You continued to look over his body for any other wounds and were relieved when you found none, say for some small cuts. The Mandalorian was protesting feebly, saying that his wounds weren’t that bad and that he’d dealt with worse. You didn’t listen to him and continued to work on his injuries.

“Keep pressure on it,” you ordered.

You took his gloved hand in yours before he could even answer and pressed it against the cloth now covering his wound. Through the modulator there came a loud, and involuntary, hiss. You got up and rushed over to where the medkit was kept. It was tucked away in one of the refresher’s wall compartments, hidden behind some other medical supplies stored there. When you came back, you saw that the Mandalorian had attempted to prop himself up against the wall behind him. He had been unsuccessful.

“I need to cut your shirt. Is that alright?” you asked.

A pause.

“Yes.”

You got to work quickly, using the small pair of scissors the medkit provided. What made your heart pound the most wasn’t the wound itself. That could be fixed easily enough. It was the fact that you saw so much of his skin. He had never been so exposed and vulnerable before. The most of him that you had seen before was a sliver of his wrist when he bent his hand the right way. His skin was a beautiful tanned colour, but you were sure that it wasn’t sunkissed. 

Shaking your head, you attempted to get rid of the intrusive thoughts about your employer. You pulled out a palm-sized bacta spray bottle and generously applied it to the Mandalorian’s side. His hand curled into a fist, fighting the urge to squirm. You worked as quickly and as delicately as possible, disinfecting the area and stitching it up as best you could. The Mandalorian had lost a lot of blood since he got back and a disturbingly large pool of dark red blood had formed around him. The pants you were wearing absorbed the liquid, leaving them heavy and drenched in the most soul-crushing way. You knew that he must have lost even more during his fight and on his journey home.

“Mando, you gotta stay with me, sweetheart. Keep those eyes open.”

You reached back into the medkit, searching for the bacta patch to finish closing your partner’s injury. Your searching became more and more frantic the longer you went without finding what you needed. Eventually, you came to the horrifying realization that there weren’t any. It wasn’t life or death, but it would make the Mandalorian’s healing time much slower. An old memory itched at the back of your mind. Your first week here when you were still learning where everything was. There were bandages on the ship. That could work.

“I need to grab the bandages. Don’t pass out,” you said.

A faint, modulated hum of acknowledgement. It was good enough for you, so got up and ran to the last area you remember seeing them. Luckily for both of you, they were still there. You let out a sigh of relief and made your way back to the Mandalorian. Unsurprisingly, the beskar covered man was right where you left him. But something seemed wrong. He seemed almost too still. You called out for him, running to his side and shaking him. There came no answer.

Your hand flew to his neck, where you felt the faintest trace of a pulse. You took another calming breath to steady yourself. He wasn’t gone, but if you didn’t act quickly he might be. So you grabbed the bandages you found and started to wrap them around the Mandalorian. You just hoped that you weren’t too late.

“You’re not dying on me, Mando. Not today.”

_______________________________________________

The Mandalorian didn’t know how long he had been out. He woke up briefly once or twice, never awake enough to be aware of the things happening around him. He tasted metal, his bones ached and he knew he was going to be littered with new scars and large bruises. When the Mandalorian fully woke, he felt cold. He pried open his eyes and looked down at his bare torso, only to regret it. His abdomen was wrapped in a thick layer of bandages, decorated with small patches of blood that managed to soak through. He went to move but was forced into stillness by the blinding pain that shot up his side.

He gently relaxed his muscles, sinking his body into the surface he was laying on. His helmet made laying down a little uncomfortable, but he was grateful that it was still on his head. The next thing the Mandalorian noticed was that his arm didn’t feel quite right. It didn’t hurt, but there was a strain. Like he had slept on it wrong, or like it had been in one position for too long. He craned his neck, doing his best to see what was causing it. 

The Mandalorian’s arm was pulled out of the cot he was laying in. When he followed it, he was shocked to see it ending in your lap. His hand was gloveless and was gently held by one of yours. You were seated in a chair beside the Mandalorian’s cot, a cot which he was starting to realize was actually yours. Your fingers were interlocked and your thumb was slowly stroking his hand in a comforting manner. In your other hand was the child. He was asleep, his face buried in the crook of your neck and snoring softly. You held up both the child and his blanket, lightly rubbing his back and trying to keep him content.

It was a sight the Mandalorian hadn’t expected to make him feel the way he did. He couldn’t find the right words to describe it, but he knew he had never felt it before. His chest, no matter how cold he was, felt warm. The Mandalorian’s heart beat harder and he felt his stomach lurch in a good way. If that made any sense, he didn’t know.

The Mandalorian closed his eyes again, trying his best to avoid movement. He hadn’t had a close call like that since his big fight with Moff Gideon. When he was on his way back to the Razor Crest, quarry in tow, he was worried he wouldn’t make it in time. There was only so much his cauterizer could do. It only dawned on him then that he had something to get back to. Something that gave him more motivation to stay safe and fight harder to make it home at the end of the day.

You and the Mandalorian hadn’t been working together for too long, all things considered. But in that short time, the bounty hunter found himself opening up to you in ways he never had before. You managed to break down the walls he had so carefully constructed throughout his life. And you did it so effortlessly. You made the Mandalorian want to tell you every minute detail of himself. Most days, he had to wrangle his tongue from spilling any more secrets of his. It scared him, and it excited him,

Through the helmet, the Mandalorian picked up on something he hadn’t noticed earlier. It was a soft, melodic tune that sounded like what home felt like. Warm and welcoming. It echoed off the walls, filling the room and putting the Mandalorian more and more at ease the longer he listened. He attempted to stay still for as long as he could, but a cramp in the Mandalorian’s arm would be his downfall.

When your partner moved, your humming stopped. Your eyes snapped open and looked over to where he laid. Your grip on the Mandalorian’s hand tightened and a smile that lit up the room crept onto your face. The look of relief was nearly heartbreaking. 

“Hey, Shiny,” you whispered.

The Mandalorian’s grip on your hand tightened as well, both of you holding each other. You stayed like that for some time; staring at one another, hands clasped. At some point, you started to trace patterns on the back of the Mandalorian’s hand. It was rare that he felt so calm and at peace. His hands were free of his gloves, so he was able to feel every stroke of your fingers. Your hands were more calloused than he imagined, years of mechanical work making itself apparent. It didn’t make him enjoy holding it any less.

“Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I should have been quieter.”

You smiled down at the Mandalorian and he swore to the Maker that he felt his heart stop. He had never felt so grateful to you and all that you do for him. He’d never said it flat out, but asking you to join him was the best decision he ever made. You, the Mandalorian and the little green child made a good crew and a better family.

“No.”

The hull of the ship seemed deafeningly quiet. The Mandalorian could hear every creak and groan of the Razor Crest. It wasn’t often that there was peace, and it was unfortunate that it was caused by such painful circumstances. It was a comfort the Mandalorian wasn’t used to having. But then you came along and changed everything. Your mere presence alone was enough to put him at ease. If he was being honest, it unsettled him; the vice-like grip you didn’t even know you had on him.

It concerned the Mandalorian even more that he found himself craving it. In the pitch black, when the nightmares plagued him and kept him awake, he thought only of you. You were like an anchor, reminding him that there was good in the universe. It wasn’t only filled with the worst scum imaginable. There was you. Kind, patient and exuberant you. He wondered how fast your touch could calm his speeding heart when just a few words made him feel like he was lighter than air.

Today was too close a call. This bounty proved quite the match for the Mandalorian, and he came close to succumbing to his injuries. If it weren’t for you, he wasn’t sure if he would be here now. What would have happened if the Mandalorian had left you and the child? Would you settle down? Continue your fruitless search for the child’s people? The Mandalorian couldn’t bear the thought. You had become too important to him. He knew he needed to do something to show it. 

An idea flashed in the Mandalorian’s mind. If you looked at it from a distance, it didn’t seem like much. It was just a few words. But to the Mandalorian, this was his whole identity. It wasn’t anything like taking off his helmet, but it was still a large part of him that he kept heavily guarded, hidden away from prying ears and adversaries.

“Din.”

You raised a confused eyebrow, “what was that?”

“My name. It’s Din Djarin.”

Your face dropped, and if the Mandalorian looked carefully, he was sure he would have seen your heart fall through the floor. He was scared that he had crossed a line and gone too far. He felt his heart hammering against his ribcage so hard it hurt. It was almost as painful as your reaction. Your expression was still one of shock, and you were frozen in place. The Mandalorian was quickly beginning to regret his decision.

“Mando...can you even tell me that? Isn’t that against your creed?”

Once again, the Mandalorian was reminded of his respect for you. You may not have understood everything about his creed, but you would be damned if you weren't going to help uphold it. The mutual respect the two of you shared was another reason why he trusted you with his name. It wasn’t much, but the Mandalorian’s name was important to him. Baring this part of himself to you was his way of opening up to you.

“Not really. You’re allowed to give your name. I just choose not to.”

Your confusion turned into lighthearted disbelief. You still looked confused, but there was now a smile to it. Your gaze softened significantly when you looked at him. Like he had given you something rare and precious and you were so grateful. The Mandalorian didn’t know, but to you, that was exactly what it was. Telling you his name was the ultimate show of trust. He also didn’t know that it made your heart soar. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you said.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

Your grip on the Mandalorian’s hand tightened even more if that was at all possible. The two of you fell into another silence since words were never the bounty hunter’s strong suit. During the short time the two of you had been together, the Mandalorian noticed how quickly you were able to tune into his emotions. You couldn’t see his face, but if he sat a certain way, you could instantly tell what he was feeling. You could read him like an open book, and it was during moments like these that he appreciated it most.

“You can only use it when we’re on the Crest,” the Mandalorian quickly added.

“Deal.”

The Mandalorian shifted his head so he was staring back up at the ceiling. He wanted to get up to the cockpit and fly far away from this planet, but his battered and bruised body rendered him immobile. For now, against his wishes, the Mandalorian would stay where he was; in a small, cramped cot holding your hand.


	3. Taste

Din Djarin had seen many things during his time. Beautiful things, odd things and things that could make a man’s blood run cold. But never in his life had the Mandalorian seen something so...entertaining and slightly inconvenient.

One year, two months and eight days ago he had taken on a new crew member. A person who knew their way around a toolbox, could aim and, most importantly, was good with children. He had taken quite a liking to them. By this point in their relationship, The Mandalorian actively sought out their time and attention. It didn’t matter what it was. They could be passed out in the same room, and he would be content.

Out of everyone the Mandalorian had ever worked with, you were by far his favourite. You had no ulterior motives and seemed happy just to travel with him. The drastic shift in his company was still something the bounty hunter was adjusting to.

Yeah, you were really something. And right now, as the Mandalorian leaned against the far cantina wall, arms crossed, you were reckless. The desert planet you were currently on housed a bounty that he had been hunting for far too long. He was dangerous, like most, so the Mandalorian had ordered you to stay behind and keep an eye on the kid. But the kid was fast asleep, you followed him anyway.

You argued that since this bounty was dangerous, the Mandalorian should have backup. But your partner was adamant. You followed him out of the ship and continued to argue like an old married couple. The two of you argued for so long, in fact, that you hadn’t noticed you were nearing a town until you got there. The Mandalorian’s tracking fob blipped rhythmically, signalling that the quarry was near. With a stern voice seething with finality, your partner told you to go back to the Crest and wait for him.

Watching the bounty hunter walk off into the distance, you were about to head back like he asked. But something caught your eye. A seedy building hidden at the end of the road with shady looking patrons walking in and out. In your experience, that could only mean good things. As you neared it, you heard faint music. Fast-paced, upbeat and loud music. A cantina. You weighed the pros and the cons in your mind before taking a deep breath and stepping in. Whatever happened was going to be a problem for future you.

When the Mandalorian returned to the Razor Crest, your absence was immediately noticed. The only trace of you he could find were your faded footprints from earlier. The child was still safe and asleep which was another sign that you hadn’t made it back. He turned tail and flew out of the ship like a bat out of hell, using the footprints as a guide leading him back towards the town.

The Mandalorian’s much larger boot prints continued down the main stretch of dusty road, whereas yours diverted into a building that looked one storm away from being decrepit. He had visited buildings in worse states of disrepair, but you hadn’t. Hundreds of reasons as to why you had gone in flashed through his mind, putting him even more on edge. As the Mandalorian neared the door, he could pick up a couple dozen voices through his helmet. They all seemed to be cheering and chanting about something, or for someone.

The large, wooden doors opened quietly, which was the second most shocking thing in the room. The building was overcrowded with vermin form the furthest reaches of the galaxy, most of whom would probably be on his radar soon enough. The Mandalorian frantically scanned the room, trying to find you. When his visor landed on you, he couldn’t help but sigh out of frustration. 

You were seated at the bar with a man, a Trandoshan, surrounded by empty shot glasses. You swayed slightly, signalling that you were already severely intoxicated. The Trandoshan also looked pretty far gone as he downed another shot of glistening, brown liquid. Your gaze was locked firmly on him as you picked up your drink as well.

The crowd that had formed in the bar waited with bated breath, so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. You downed your drink, grimaced, and slammed it back down on the counter. Whispers began erupting in the crowd, spreading like wildfire. Comments on how you were going to win, how you weren’t going to win and the credits that were placed on both you and your reptilian opponent.

You and the Trandoshan simultaneously picked up your glasses and brought them to your lips. The Trandoshan was a lot slower in doing so. It was a telling sign that he was near the end, but it was still anyone’s game. The glass was poised at your lips and you stared the Trandoshan down challengingly. He raised the glass to his lips as well, but before he could drink it, he froze.

The Trandoshan collapsed, falling ungracefully out of his seat and sprawling on the unforgiving floor below. The crowd gasped and stared at you as you sucked back your drink. You drunkenly threw the small glass onto the floor and bellowed loudly. The cantina went wild. Every patron was cheering, even those who had bet against you. They swarmed you, helping you out of your seat and offering their congratulations.

You took the credits they handed you with glee and stuffed them all in your bag. You gave sloppy hugs and sloppier handshakes to anyone within arm’s reach. The Mandalorian made a mental note that you were a happy drunk.

And happier you got, once you set eyes on the beskar clad man. You stumbled and sprinted your way over to him, giggling as you did so. The Mandalorian would admit that he felt some pride in seeing you win. His partner, outdrinking the local scum and winning some credits while you did so. He would have preferred to be there, to make sure none of the riff-raff tried anything, but he knew you could handle yourself

“Mando, look! I won!” 

“You sure did.”

You were positively glowing. If it were any other time, and any other person, the Mandalorian would have given you an earful about how reckless it was to get drunk on such a backwater planet. But in your current state, he figured that it wouldn’t have been much use. So long as you were okay, the wicked hangover that was sure to be coming your way would be punishment enough.

“Come on. We should get back to the ship,” came the Mandalorian’s modulated voice.

“But we’re having so much fun!”

Your protesting was feeble as the Mandalorian began to guide you out of the cantina. His hand was splayed against your lower back, and it was something you were acutely aware of. You were trying your best to wave and say goodbye to all the “friends” you had just made. Some gave a small wave, but none got up. Like hell they were going to try to stop a Mandalorian.

Once outside, the Mandalorian noticed that your walking seemed to slow. Your stumbling was so bad that you nearly fell three times before you were even ten feet from the cantina. You were also trying to talk to the Mandalorian, but a lot of what you were saying was incomprehensible and slurred. You were leaning heavily on him, and the position you and the Mandalorian were in wasn’t going to be comfortable for too much longer.

The Mandalorian stopped moving. It took you a few extra seconds for you to realize this, only stopping once the heat from your partner’s body disappeared. Before you turn around to see what was wrong, the Mandalorian was at your side again. He took your arm and slung it around his shoulders, keeping ahold of your hand with one of his own. His other hand was wrapped around your waist with a secure grip.

All you had to do was keep moving your feet forward. You trusted the Mandalorian to get you back to the ship in one piece. The Mandalorian got a few odd glances as he trudged through the village. He was used to the looks; it wasn’t every day you saw a Mandalorian. But it probably had more to do with the person babbling drunkenly at his side. He just set his sights forward and kept walking.

The Mandalorian had never been more grateful for his own flying. Landing the Razor Crest so close was the best decision he ever made, even if he didn’t do it consciously. With great difficulty, the Mandalorian reached his arm brace and lowered the ship’s ramp. You let out a little cheer at the action, and the Mandalorian would have chuckled if he weren't so in control of himself.

You let go of him and stumbled into the hull of the ship, arms spread and clearly happy to be home. The carefree attitude and happy look on your face disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Your hand flew to your mouth and you jerked forward. Turning on your heel, you stumble-ran as fast as you could to the ship’s privy. The contents of your stomach ejected violently, causing you to cough and gag as they came up. You remained in your hunched over position, groaning.

The Mandalorian slowly made his way over to where you were. He reached a gloved hand towards you but faltered. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be crossing a line. Before he could make up his mind, you took a deep breath and sat up.

“I feel better,” you announced.

This time, the Mandalorian didn’t stop the small laugh that bubbled up in his chest. That small noise was enough to get the happy look you had back on your face. You raised your arms up to him, making grabby motions with your hands that mimicked the little green child. With an eye roll, the Mandalorian reached down and pulled you up. When you stood up on your wobbly legs, you stumbled forward and right into his chest plate. 

When you looked up at the Mandalorian, he swore he felt the world stop. You were staring up at him like he was worth the galaxy. Your smile was softer now, and the two of you just stood there, gazing at each other. If the Mandalorian tried hard enough, he could pretend that you were love-struck idiots enjoying a moment together. But he knew that wasn’t real, so he had to shake himself out of it.  
The Mandalorian gently grabbed you by your waist and guided you to the cot where you slept. You giggled senselessly as the Mandalorian lowered you onto your make-shift sleeping area. You gave his arm another firm squeeze before giving in and fully laying down. You drunkenly grabbed at your pillow and pulled it to your chest, shoving your face into it and hugging it tightly.

“Thanks, Shiny,” you mumbled.

The Mandalorian felt himself smile, “you’re welcome. Just don’t go out drinking by yourself anymore.”

Your arm flew dramatically up into the air, index finger raised high in mock defiance, “no promises.”

The Mandalorian’s lip curled upward ever so slightly. He wished you a good night before leaving to go to bed himself. He had caught the trail of another bounty, and he wanted to be well-rested to go after them. He was about two paces from your cot before he was stopped by his cape. It was pulling The Manalorain back like it had been snagged by something. But when he looked, the Mandalorian saw that it had, instead, been snagged by someone.

Though your eyes were still closed, your grip on his cape held firm. The Mandalorian was a little confused, to say the least.

“You need something?” The Mandalorian had chuckled softly as he asked, seeing that your drunken escapade wasn’t over yet.

“I need...I need to tell you something, Mando. But you can’t tell Din. You can’t.”

Oh? This piqued the Mandalorian’s interest. He felt a little grimy, taking advantage of your lowered defences. He tried to argue with himself, making up reasons like; what if they were secretly in trouble? What if something happened to the kid that he didn’t know about? What if they found out something about his people and couldn’t wait until they were sober to tell him? Yeah. Yeah, it had to be something like that. What else could it be?

“I won’t tell him,” the Mandalorian promised.

“I knew I could trust you. You’ve always had my back.”

As another small wave of guilt washed over the bounty hunter, you slowly and sloppily popped yourself up onto your elbows. You tried your damnedest to look serious, but you continued to sway ever so slightly. Your eyes were a little glossy and seemed to be looking at everything and nothing all at once before finally settling on your gaze on your crewmate. The Mandalorian hoped that these were normal drunken side effects for you.

You took a deep breath.

“Alright. I’ve known Din for a while now, yeah?”

Din nodded.

“He’s been there for me a lot the past...year, I think it's been? I mean a lot. Do you know how many times I’ve almost died?!”

“I don’t,” said the Mandalorian, remembering every single time you’ve thrown yourself two feet first into danger.

“Crazy shit, Mando. But every time, he’s been there. Every. Single. Time.”

You slammed your hand down onto your pillow with each word to stress their importance.

“I trust him with my life, and I...I think that he’d trust me with his.”

'Without hesitation,' the Mandalorian thought. He didn’t dare voice this out loud. You were on a roll and he wasn’t planning on stopping you.

“We’ve spent a lot of time together. Bounty hunting and raising the kid while looking for his kind. It’s not what I imagined my family would look like, but I’m- I’m happy. I get to spend time with the two people I care about most in the galaxy. No, the universe! Don’t worry, though, I like you too.”

Din felt his heart swell. He never imagined that someone could be so happy just because they get to see him. Your home setup wasn’t ideal; a ship that was far too small for two adults and a magical baby. Not to mention that there always seemed to be something wrong with it, no matter how fast the pair of you fixed it. There were also the life and death situations he got you in near-daily. He’s never told you, but he’s had nightmares about it. Losing you to one of his bounties.

And yet, here you were telling him you liked it. Loved it, even. The stale rations, the sleepless nights because of the kid, the close calls on jobs. All because you saw the Mandalorian and the kid as your family. You were willing to put up with anything and everything as long as you were together. The Mandalorian wouldn’t even admit it on his deathbed, but his eyes felt a little wet. 

“I’ve been thinking,” you continued, “I’ve been thinking about feelings and stuff. For the past few months, I’ve felt different. Every time I see Din, Mando, my heart just races. It feels like it’s about to blow out of my chest and onto the floor. It was almost painful, and I didn’t understand what it was. It’s kinda why I went to the bar.”

The Mandalorian unconsciously leaned forward, getting closer to you. He stayed quiet, not trusting himself to speak.

“I met a cool woman there. I was telling her about the, uh, chest hurting thing. She laughed. Can you fucking believe that? She asked me if I loved him. I said ‘course I do, he’s my family.’ But then she asked if I really, really loved him. Like, more than family.”

You slowly started to lay back down. You were so tired and Din knew you’d have a splitting headache in the morning, but you just had to get it out. “That was about...three drinks in? By drink seven, I realized that I did. Mando, I am so in love with Din.”

Din felt his heart stop. Well, he was most certainly not expecting to hear that. He thought you would say something a little less life-altering. You loved him? Like, you honest to the Maker loved him? He could believe that you cared for him, but this? This was just something the Mandalorian couldn’t wrap his head around.

“But...but you’ve never even seen his face,” he objected.

“And I may never!” By now, sleep had begun to fully take you. Your head was nearly submerged by your pillow, and you had begun to pull the blanket up to your face. “If I ever see his face, it’ll be up to him. I don’t care what he looks like. I love him because he’s him, Mando.”

You were mumbling, and your speech had started to become unintelligible. What you said barely made sense, but Din understood. It shook him to his core. You were everything he wasn’t; kinder, patient, social, softer. What could he possibly have done to make you fall in love with him? Get on your nerves? Put you in danger? The Mandalorian began to feel dizzy.

Soft snores bounced around in Din’s helmet. He finally looked back at your cot, where you were sound asleep, a steady stream of drool already falling past your lips. Your confession seemed to kick start some gears in the Mandalorian’s mind that he didn’t know he had. Memories played in his head like a movie, one after the other relentlessly.

When you first met, saving his life from a bounty and him asking you to join his crew. When he came up into the cockpit one day and saw you dreamily looking at the passing stars. When he came home from the market to see you bouncing the kid, singing a song your mother had once sung to you. You tending to his wounds after a bad hunt, calling him stupid and reckless but not truly meaning it.  
It was the domestic moments like those that got the Mandalorian thinking. Did he love you back? More and more memories of your time together seemed to flash before his eyes, like he was dying. With the way his lungs felt like they were filling with water, and how hard his heart was pounding, Din felt like he was. He struggled against the rapids of his mind, desperate to find the metaphorical land.

After ten or so minutes of the past grabbing him by the throat and forcing him down memory lane, the Mandalorian came back to himself. He had been staring at you, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest. You never looked more at ease than when you slept, almost like the horrors of his life never touched you. But he knew they did. He saw it in the way your face contorted late at night when it crept into your nightmares.

You were too good for him, Din thought. He knew your life was a tragic one, so he didn’t understand why you stuck around with him. You should be on a lush, green planet where it’s safe. You deserved a happy ending, and he knew he couldn’t give that to you. Not yet.

But the thought of you leaving made his heart feel like lead. It was selfish of him, but the Mandalorian wanted nothing more than you and the kid to stay by his side. His small clan was all he had. Small and lopsided as it was, it was there. Din then moved on to the blanket that had begun to slip down your body. He pulled it up to your face, tucking you back in. Satisfied, Din turned to leave, but not without sparing you one last glance.

Din Djarin loved you too.


	4. Touch

A vacation was exactly what the Mandalorian needed. Back to back bounties were not good for his physical or mental health, and you had been pressuring him into a break for the past few weeks. The Mandalorian finally caved to your ridiculous demands of rest and relaxation because he wanted you to stop pestering him and totally not because he desperately wanted to. 

For the past two years and four months, you had been doing that. Taking care of him and the child in ways he hadn’t experienced since he was young. Gentle reminders about his eating habits and harsh reminders about his sleeping schedule. When you visited markets you would make b-lines for foods and items you felt he and the child would enjoy. It was a common occurrence for the Mandalorian to lay down in his cot, only to find a small item you had hidden for him to find. Once, you somehow got your hand on some stolen beskar from a traveller. You threaded it onto a simple chain and left it as a gift. To this day, the Mandalorian has yet to remove the necklace.

Yes, having you around was a gift and a curse for the bounty hunter. You were the first thought he had when he woke up and the last thought before he fell asleep. He selfishly yearned for your attention, no matter how minuscule. The Mandalorian went out of his way to make sure his bounties didn’t see you. It was sad, really, how desperate he was for you to even glance his way. And knowing your true feelings for him? It only made it that much harder to be around you. 

The Mandalorian longed to reciprocate your feelings. To share his life and love with you for as long as you’d let him. If he were brave, he would have asked to hold your hand. But the life he lived was not one he wanted for you. He didn’t want it for the child either, but at least you had the choice to leave. The Mandalorian wanted you to live a free life. A life free from the constant threat of death hanging over your head. Every second you were with him meant that one day you might wake up and it would be your last. 

These thoughts involuntarily ran through Din Djarin’s head as blaster shot after blaster shot was fired at the two of you. It was supposed to be one last easy job before some much needed time off. You discovered too little too late that it had been a setup. There was an entire platoon of bounty hunters trying their hardest to capture or kill him. At this point, he didn’t know what would be worse.  
The Mandalorian was angry. He was angry with his client, he was angry with the quarry, he was angry with his situation, but most of all he was angry with himself. You had insisted on coming with him for this job to get it done quickly. You had practically begged the Mandalorian to take you with him. The child was fast asleep and there was no safer place for him than in the Razor Crest. You wanted to make sure things went quickly and smoothly so you could leave as soon as possible.

But now you were in danger. It was an unavoidable part of the job, but the Mandalorian did his best to keep you as far from it as possible. You were returning enemy fire with the blaster the Mandalorian had given to you as a gift. It was small and sturdy, which made it easy to conceal and use. He couldn’t fight the feeling of pride bubbling in his chest whenever you hit a target with it, living or not. Before the two of you met, your aim was...not the best, to put it mildly. But now you took down assailant after assailant, say for one or two stay shots.

There was a fire in your eyes that the Mandalorian rarely got to see. When your emotions ran high, your eyes gave it away. When the child did something exceptionally cute, the fire was there. When the Mandalorian came back from a particularly long hunt, the fire was there. When you mowed down bounties and attackers, the fire was there. It was something that was so uniquely you and the Mandalorian always seemed to be searching for it, whether consciously or not. 

A poorly aimed shot managed to skim your shoulder and knocked you off balance. Your name left the Mandalorian’s lip in a panicked voice and his gaze turned to you. Your hand gripped the wound and your teeth were ground together painfully tight. His anxiety was quelled when he saw a shallow wound and minimal blood. You gave him the best smile you could muster and opened your mouth to speak. The Mandalorian expected some silly comment or joke or pun about your current situation.

You hadn’t even made it halfway through your sentence when the fight changed. An object no bigger than a common fruit landed where you had taken cover. A red light flashed at you angrily, and the high-pitched beeping of a timer echoed in your ears. In his battle hazed state, it took the Mandalorian a moment to fully understand what he was looking at. A small bomb, compact to easily conceal, but no less deadly. Looking at the speed of the flashes and beeps, there were seconds left before it detonated. But you had acted first.

“Mando, move!”

The world turned into a solid blur for the Mandalorian, which he found odd since the next few seconds seemed to happen in ultra slow motion. The Mandalorian was sent spiralling away from your shelter, an action he didn’t do himself. He was still moving when the bomb exploded. It was deafening; enough to rattle every bone in the bounty hunter’s body and possibly damage his hearing. The ensuing shock wave sent him even further from ground zero, his beskar seemingly protecting him from the harsh ground as he rolled. 

The Mandalorian’s body eventually collided with a nearby wall, the shock of it stealing the air from his lungs. He took a moment to take a few deep breaths and assess his situation. Your assailants had magically vanished. Most likely they thought the two of you didn’t survive the blast. He felt some solace knowing it hadn't been a bounty job. The Mandalorian then propped himself up onto his arm, looking around to see what had sent him flying because he knew it wasn’t the explosion.

He wished that he hadn’t.

Your body laid limp a good fifteen feet from the blast zone. Your clothes were smoking, and the Mandalorian prayed to any deity listening that the black patches up your arm were just your clothes. He began to frantically call your name as he scrambled to get up. The Mandalorian’s panic had turned his blood to pure adrenaline as he raced the distance to get to you. His ears were still ringing from the explosion. Other than the blood thundering behind them, it was all he could hear.

He felt claustrophobic; trapped alone with his own fear. Losing you was not an option, and it was never supposed to be. He swore to protect you, to make sure you didn’t get hurt. But as he ran to where you laid, the Mandalorian couldn’t stop the feeling of failure from taking hold. It was never supposed to be like this.

The Mandalorian dropped down to your side, still calling your name. His words fell on deaf ears, however. You didn’t even flinch when he grabbed you by your side and rolled you onto your back. Your eyes were closed and your breathing was shallow and desperate like it agonized you to do so. There were 2nd and 3rd-degree burns crawling up the left side of your body, spanning from your thigh to the cheek of your face. The skin was red, bleeding and angry, which only made the Mandalorian’s heart hammer harder in his chest.

He looked around in desperation, hoping that there was someone that could help. But he was alone. He was in an abandoned town, now decorated by a small, fresh crater in the middle of the main street. The Mandalorian swore and turned his attention back to you. He ripped off one of his gloves and shoved it in between his chest plate and his body, as not to lose it.

The Mandalorian placed his hand on the uninjured side of your neck, hoping for a pulse. As faint and slow as it was, it was there. You were still there. The Mandalorian felt the smallest bit of relief flutter in his chest. He took a shuddering breath before wrapping your good arm around his neck and picking you up. You shouted out from the pain and sudden movement. Though he knew you were in indescribable agony, the Mandalorian took it as a good sign. You were alive and awake. If you could hang on just until he got you back to the Crest, he could fix you up. At least, he hoped he could.

The Mandalorian had found himself doing that a lot since he met you; hoping. It was something he wasn’t used to feeling or thinking about. The Mandalorian woke up every day and hoped that nothing bad would happen. To him, to you and the kid. Whenever you insisted on coming on jobs with him, the Mandalorian hoped that you would walk away unscathed. You came into his life and you had given him this feeling that he didn’t know he was missing. It made him excited about the future. It made him hope that things would be different someday.

The Mandalorian’s lungs burned. He had been running non-stop, speaking to you and doing his best to keep you awake. You were so limp in his arms and that scared him more than he would ever admit. Your eyes were half-open, but you couldn’t seem to focus on anything. Every time the Mandalorian’s feet hit the ground, the vibration sent ripples of pain throughout your body. Half awake and half-aware, you tried your best to stay quiet.

When the Razor Crest came into view, the Mandalorian could have cried. He tapped into the last bit of his panic-induced adrenaline and changed for the ship. Your sleeping area was set up close to the storage area, so your cot wasn’t too far from the door. The Mandalorian placed you down on your cot as gently as he could, but you still let out a hiss. With all the noise he made, your partner also found himself hoping that the child would sleep through whatever he heard.

The Mandalorian practically flew to the other end of the ship, throwing the odd object as he dug for the medkit. It was hidden in the metal box tucked away into a corner. He had never felt such ease upon seeing a small, rusted metal box. The lid was ripped off and thrown carelessly to the floor as the Mandalorian ran back to your cot. He paused for a moment, looking at his gloved hands. The Mandalorian decided in the end that his bare hands would fare better. Off came his gloves and gauntlets, placed gently on the floor beside him.

Your face was flushed and sweat beaded across your forehead. Another good sign. Your body still had some fight left in it. With shaking fingers, the Mandalorian applied bacta patches to every area he could find. Fortunately, and unfortunately, your shirt had been damaged by the blast. This meant that the Mandalorian didn’t have to cut your shirt to get to the damaged areas. The downside meant that the damaged areas were damaged. The bounty hunter had seen his fair share of wounds over the years, both on himself and others. Wounds that looked exactly like yours, sometimes even worse. But there was something positively nauseating about seeing you with them.

Each patch was applied carefully and precisely despite the Mandalorian’s fried nerves. Every grunt and moan you let out kept him steady and grounded, reminding him you hadn’t left him yet. When he finished, the Mandalorian packed his, now slightly bloodied, medical supplies back in their box. It took him a minute to find that Maker-forsaken lid. 

Next stop was the privy. The Mandalorian’s hands were disgusting, and he found it hard to look at them. They were caked in blood that belonged to both him and you and no amount of soap and water seemed to wash the image from his mind. After five minutes of out of body hand scrubbing, the Mandalorian returned to himself. You were still in the hull, broken, but healing. With a shaky sigh, he left the cramped room and went back to the storage area. With a blanket in his arms, the Mandalorian made his way back to you.

Your side was completely coated in bacta patches, say for a few spots here and there. You looked so weak and beaten and the Mandalorian hated it. But the bacta infusions seemed to be doing their job, however, which brought him some peace of mind. Soft, steady breathing was picked up by his helmet, and your face was completely serene. You had fallen asleep. The Mandalorian selfishly wished you were awake. If things hadn’t gone to high hell, he would have the bounty in carbonite by now and you would be making snarky comments about them.

But you needed rest. Badly. If the Mandalorian was being honest, so did he. Before he could do that, though, he wanted off this planet. He gently draped the blanket across your body, pulling up a little closer to your face. In the back of his mind, he remembered it was a habit of yours. A comfort or a childish delusion of safety, the Mandalorian didn’t know. He looked down at you for a moment, watching your face sink unconsciously deeper into the sea of fabric. Your chest rose and fell rhythmically and without strain. 

Today had been too close of a call for the Mandalorian. His daily routine meant that he was the one who was supposed to come home battered and bruised. You were supposed to be the one fixing him up and playfully berating him for it. He didn’t walk away unscathed today, but it had only been cuts, large bruises and a faint ringing in his ears. But you had risked your safety, your life, to save him. You had been stupid and reckless and impulsive and many other adjectives the Mandalorian’s fazed mind thought of. But the word that rang the loudest was ‘alive.’

He was grateful to whatever luck or deity that had been looking down on you. You were back on the Razor Crest, back home, and you were alive. The anger he had felt about your decision began to fade away the longer he held on to that simple fact. The Mandalorian never wanted to see you hurt, and he swore to himself that he would do anything to keep you from being in pain ever again.  
A soft cooing broke the Mandalorian out of his trance, and his attention turned to the small sleeping space hidden in the wall. With a few strides and a push of a button, the Mandalorian was looking at the small room and at the lone occupant in it. The child, with his big eyes and bigger ears, was staring up at the Mandalorian. His expression was a confused one, most likely caused by the flurry of activity over the last twenty or so minutes. The child reached out for his adoptive father, fingers grasping almost desperately. He complied and scooped the small child from his hammock.

“Hungry, you little wamp rat?” the Mandalorian asked.

The mention of eating changed the foundling’s mood instantly. With a giggle, he tapped his little hands against the Mandalorian’s armour. His expression was no longer one of confusion, but anticipation. The bounty hunter had hit the nail on the head. He turned with the child in his arms and went to a ration crate, grabbing the closest thing to meat he could find. The child stared at the food, and then the Mandalorian and held his gaze.

“I know it’s not your favourite, but it’ll have to do.”

Accepting what was offered, the child took the bar and started to gnarl at it. But as soon as the baby started to eat, he stopped. He was now staring at the far end of the ship where you were sleeping, brows furrowed. He gestured in your direction and babbled in his baby language. His wide, questioning eyes then fell on the Mandalorian and he repeated his question. He paused to think about what he would tell the kid. You were just as important to him as you were to the Mandalorian, and he didn’t want to upset him. The selfish part of him worked its way up again, whispering that the baby should use his powers to fix you. But the rational part of him was louder. He knew that if he let the child heal you, you would be livid and he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“It was a long day,” the Mandalorian told his foundling, “they’re exhausted and they need to rest.”

It wasn’t an outright lie. Both of those things were true. He just didn’t tell the child the unimportant details.

“Let’s eat in the cockpit. You can help me get off this scug hole and finally pull your weight around here.”

The child squealed gleefully as the Mandalorian and he made his way up the ladder.  
___________________________________________

Hours had passed. Time ticked so slowly for the Mandalorian that he didn’t even bother to look at the clock anymore. He knew that he would get frustrated that only five minutes had passed even though it felt like an eternity. He had taken to fiddling with anything and everything he could find on the ship. Granted, the Razor Crest was held together by bolts and prayers, so there was lots that needed to be done. But nothing was quiet, so there wasn’t much the Mandalorian could do. In the end, he took a seat on the floor next to your cot. The child was fed and had fallen back asleep, the ship would be in hyperspace for the next handful of hours and there was absolutely nothing to do.

The day had been a long one for the Mandalorian as well, and he had unintentionally fallen asleep. His body was slumped against the metal interior of his ship and his head had lulled lazily to the side. With the way the Mandalorian slept, both you and he were shocked that he didn’t suffer more neck problems. The hull of the ship was calm and temporally safe from pursuers as all her passengers slept. The quiet was a rare but welcomed change. But eventually, all good things must come to an end.

You started to stir, straining your limbs despite the soreness in them. Your minute movements woke up the armour-clad man sleeping next to you. He had slept lightly, determined to wake up once you had. The Mandalorian was still shaking off sleep as you fully woke up and gathered your bearings. When you spoke, it was soft and barely audible. 

“Din?”

Your voice sounded angelic. It didn’t matter how scratchy and strained it sounded, just hearing you speak made his heart soar. He took your hand into both of his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay, I’m here.”

“W-why is it dark? Am I blind?” you gasped dramatically, attempting to sit upright before speaking again, “am I dead!? Mando, are we dead!?”

Despite the panic in your voice, the Mandalorian couldn’t stop the soft laugh that forced its way out.

“No, you’re not dead. The lights are off. I...I thought they might have bothered you when you woke up.”

“Oh, thank the Maker,” you breathed, collapsing back onto the cot.

You squeezed your partner’s hand, grateful for his presence. You still weren’t entirely sure how you ended up laying on your cot in the dark. Not only that, but your entire left side was covered in bacta patches. Every one of your joints felt stiff and sore, and your memory was hazy. More feelings than images. The last thing you remembered clearly was going after the Mandalorian’s bounty with him. Then overwhelmingly. it all came crashing down on you. Every single detail that had been whipped from your memory. The bomb, the fear and the heat of the explosion. Then everything was a blur.

“Dank farrak, the bomb! Mando, are you-”

“I’m fine. You should be more concerned about yourself. How are you feeling?”

You placed your second hand on top of the Mandalorian’s and hoped you were looking at where his face would be. “Better than I expected.”

Then there was silence again. But it was a comfortable silence where you just soaked in the presence of the other person. The creaks and groans of the Mandalorian’s beloved ship were melodic and soothing. The two of you were grateful

You had been so distracted, you didn’t notice how different your partner’s voice sounded. It was smoother, deeper, less intense. It was unmodulated.

“Mando, are you...are you not wearing your helmet?”

He was so close that you could feel his breath on your clasped hands. A soft chuckle was your response.

You couldn’t help but laugh too, but yours was more out of nervousness than anything. Your nervousness turned to shock, however, when your partner’s forehead moved forward and connected with yours. You decided to sit there for a moment, soaking everything in. You slowly raised your hand to the Mandalorian’s face, giving him time to pull away. But he didn’t. The Mandalorian didn’t even flinch. In fact, he welcomed the touch and seemed to revel in it. 

He let out a content sigh, nuzzling his face into your hand. You were pleased to find that his face was decorated by stubble, say for a small mustache just under his nose. His nose felt larger than most and ever so slightly hooked, almost hawkish. You tapped into what little bravery you had and moved your free hand upwards and into the Mandalorian’s hair. It was softer than you expected, and you could feel some curls and waves hidden in the mop. You knew it was a nice brown because you may or may not have seen a patch of it sticking out of his helmet once.

You only noticed the Mandalorian wasn’t wearing his gloves when a hand was gently placed over the hand you had on his face. You had felt his bare hands before, but never so intimately. They were calloused and scarred from years of training and bounty hunting. They were perfect in your eyes. He pressed a chaste kiss onto your palm. It was like he could spend eternity there. Just sitting there and holding you. 

The Mandalorian’s head was positively spinning. Physical touch was something you had brought into his life. Growing up in the covert, the only touch the Mandalorian ever received was during his training. Affection, loving touches, were things he hadn’t experienced since he was a child. But when you came into his life, you upheaved it and broke down his carefully built walls. Brick by brick, you tore them down and opened his eyes to a gentler part of life. You always respected his boundaries, backing off when the Mandalorian asked. But you were always finding excuses to touch him. A hand on the hip when you passed him, a comforting hand on his shoulder, hugging him when you were excited and wrapping your arm around his when you were in a crowded space. 

The Mandalorian had grown accustomed to your touch. He found himself craving it, but he didn’t know how to go about asking. You had explained time and time again that all he had to do was just that, but it was way too far out of his comfort zone. It wasn’t that he was ungrateful for your touch in this moment, but the Mandalorian wished that your near-death experience wasn’t the push he needed. But there he was anyway, completely absorbed by your touch and returning it with his own.

“I thought I lost you today,” he whispered into your palm. He planned another kiss onto your wrist and paused again. “You scared me. For a few minutes, I actually had to imagine my life without you in it. It...it wasn’t bearable. You have to promise me that you’ll never do that again. You will never scare me like that again.”

The Mandalorian’s tone was deadly serious. You sighed and moved your hand into his, holding it tightly.

“I’m sorry I worried you, but I will not apologize for what I did. Do you think my life would be any more bearable without you in it? I can’t promise to not protect you unless you promise to stop putting yourself in danger.”

You brought his hand to your face and accentuated your sentences with a kiss to his fingers. He found your request unreasonable, but your feather light touches across his knuckles made it difficult to argue.

“You know I can’t do that.”

The Mandalorian could practically hear the smug smile on your face. He was grateful for the anonymity of the pitch black since he was sure his face was flaming red. A million thoughts a minute were racing through the bounty hunter’s head, and he found it exceedingly difficult to keep track of them all. Relief you were alive, frustration at your stubbornness and temptation from your ultimatum. A cot creaking pulled him from all of these thoughts and left his mind blank to focus solely on you. With minimal trouble, you had shuffled over to the Mandalorian. You were so close to him that he could feel the heat radiating off you. 

“Then I guess we’re at an impasse,” you whispered.

You had snuck up on your partner silently, somehow ending up only inches from his face. The Mandalorian could now feel your breath brushing against him. It was a dare. An invitation that you gave him the option to say no to. Always considerate of boundaries, no matter what state you were in. The Mandalorian appreciated it, but he didn’t want to say no.

“I guess we are.”

Both of you sat in wait for the other to move first, both too nervous to mess up what you had. But if you were going to tempt him like this, the Mandalorian was willing to take the chance. With a deep breath and a tilt of his head, he leaned forward and gently brushed his lips against yours. It was more of a test kiss, giving you time to back away.

But you were more than happy to return his advances. You leaned forward, giving more of yourself to the Mandalorian than he ever dreamed he’d get. Your arms snaked their way around his neck, securing him in place. The Mandalorian was all too content to spend the rest of his life right here in your arms, kissing you. A large hand was placed delicately on your waist, inching you even closer. The thought of his metal chest plate digging into you crossed his mind, but both of you were too enamoured by each other to care.

The Mandalorian wished that your first kiss was better thought out. He would have taken you to a beautiful planet and spend some off time there. It would take him a while to muster up the courage for a confession, but he would do it and hope you felt the same. But this was fine. It was messy and desperate, teeth sometimes clashing together when one of you got overexcited. It was everything he dreamed it would be and more. The bounty hunter swore that he could see stars flashing behind his eyes. When your hand worked its way back into his hair, he nearly passed out.

You only pulled away from each other when your lungs began to burn. Your foreheads were rested against each other, panting and trying to come back to yourselves.

“What colour are your eyes?” you asked.

A pause.

“Brown.”

You were back on the Mandalorian before he could blink. In the dark without his helmet, he couldn’t see when you were about to pounce and he loved it. The thrill of the unknown and still being safe was too good to pass up. It only took the Mandalorian a second to react, placing his hand on the back of your neck, angling you upwards to get to you easier. You let out a hum of approval that made his body feel like it was on fire.

Time fluctuated again for the Mandalorian. But this time, it moved way faster than he realized. He didn’t know how much of it had passed because he was so intoxicated by you and every move you made. It was as if you had put him under a spell that left him completely at your mercy and desperate for you. He went to wrap an arm around your torso to pull you impossibly closer, but a hiss left your lips as he did. The Mandalorian pulled away from you like you were a hot element he had accidentally burned his hand on and fear flooded his senses.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. You just hit a sore spot.”

After the fear came regret. How could he have been so careless with you? The Mandalorian should have been hyper aware of your injuries, but he had gotten careless and unintentionally hurt you.

“I’m sorry, I should have been more careful, I-”

The Mandalorian was saved from his rambling by a hand softly smacking him in the face. You were reaching out in the dark and trying to find him. Your hand patted its way across his cheek and nose, almost poking him in the eye as you went. When you finally found the Mandalorain’s lips, you placed your index finger over them.

“If you’re really sorry,” you started, “you’ll come back here and keep kissing me.”

With a grin on his face, he leaned forward and connected with the side of your mouth. Both of you laughed at the action and fixed yourselves so he could kiss you properly. This kiss was different. It was gentler and felt lighter. Like the two of you had been doing it for eons and you both belonged there. It was like the softer emotions the Mandalorian kept under lock and key seeped in and made themselves known. There was so much love in this kiss, and the bounty hunter never wanted it to end. 

But it did end, less abruptly and injury inducing. Once again, the two of you fell into your comfortable silence, revelling in the afterglow. When your soft hand fumbled to his face again, the Mandalorian happily used his own to guide it to rest on his cheek.

“Maker, you’re handsome,” you smiled.

“You can’t even see me”

You stroked the Mandalorian’s coarse cheek with your thumb.

“I don’t need to.”

The two of you laughed together before diving into one another like the love-struck idiots you were destined to become. Neither of you knew how the rest of your lives would pan out, but you were sure of one thing: if you had each other, you knew you would be just fine.


	5. Sight

More and more frequently, Din Djarin found himself lost in his own mind. It was a dangerous thing, especially when he was in the middle of bringing a bounty back to the Crest. His thoughts tended to drift between a multitude of things. His mind was akin to a cliff in a stormy sea, being constantly berated by wave after wave. The most important of which was you. 

You, who came into his life and shifted its axis. There was no end to the words that could adequately describe you, and he found himself drowning in them. You had done the unexpected and unthinkable, making him fall in love with you. He was elated to find that his feelings were not unrequited and that you loved him just as fiercely. The two of you made quite the pair; taking down bounties together, and doing your best to raise your adopted child. 

In all his years of travelling, the Mandalorian never imagined that he would be allowed anything close to the domesticity he got to experience now. Even before your relationship a romantic one, you still managed to turn the Razor Crest into something resembling a home. The rickety ship became warm and inviting, the echo of a parent and child’s laughter decorating the metal halls and cold rooms. It was a charmed and challenging life, but it was yours.

The Mandalorian sat in the cockpit of his ship, gazing out the windshield at the celestial objects that whizzed by. From where he sat, the bounty hunter could see a handful of bustling planets and the thousands of stars twinkling against the black backdrop of space. He was pushing buttons and pulling levers, getting his ship ready to fly through hyperspace. Another planet visited with another dead end made the Mandalorian even more skeptical about his quest. The child you and he were raising was a special one. The little green cutie could move objects, create shields and attack people with just his mind. 

The Mandalorian’s dear friend, Cara Dune, was not overly fond of that last trick.

The bounty hunter had been quested to bring this child back to his people. Who those people were, and where they were located, he had no idea. Worse still, he had no idea where to even start looking. Supposedly, there was a race of enemy sorcerers known as the Jedi who could do what the baby did. If the Mandalorian handed the child over to them, maybe they could give him the care and training he needed.

With a heavy groan, the Razor Crest lurched into hyperspace and took off. The lights from the surrounding stars became blurry as the ship raced past them at lightspeed. It was a familiar and comforting sight that the Manadlorain would never tire of. Something else familiar and comforting to the Mandalorian were the sounds of you going about your business in the hull. Whether it was organizing creates, fixing something small or taking care of the kid, it was nice to know that you were close by.

From where he sat, the Mandalorian could hear you putting the child to bed. You had already fed and bathed him, and now he could hear your voice singing to the little green creature. It was a song that the Mandalorian had heard you sing and hum on many occasions. You even hummed it when you patched him up after particularly bad jobs. It was soft and melodic and it brought a great sense of peace to everyone aboard the Razor Crest. The Mandalorian closed his eyes and focused on the sound, allowing himself to indulge for just a moment.

When your voice quieted down enough that he couldn’t hear, the Mandalorian went back to work on the control panel. Autopilot was engaged, but you could never be too safe with a ship as old as the Crest. As he flicked the final switch, he heard the sound of someone climbing up the ladder behind him. You ascended the ladder extra quietly, as to not wake the child. The Mandalorain turned to face you, and to say he was caught off guard would have been an understatement. The front of your shirt was damp, some spots forming the shape of small hands. Your hair was a complete mess, not having had the chance to clean yourself up yet. You were stunning.

You sauntered up to the Mandalorian, rubbing one eye with the back of your hand sleepily. The child had been extra fussy that day, and because of the bounty hunter’s busy schedule, he had been left in your lap. You had told the Mandalorian time and time again that your arrangement worked just fine, but he could always tell when it wore on you. It made him yearn for a simpler life. One with a solid home and a normal career. Things he hoped that one day, he could give to you.

“He asleep?” the Mandalorian asked.

A tired smile, “oh yeah. Little guy’s sleeping so heavily I doubt anything could wake him up.”

“Let’s not test that.”

A shared laugh, not too loud, brightened the cockpit. Your attention turned to the windows of the room, looking out at the streaming lights. Space travel was something you never got to do growing up, so you tried to enjoy as much of it as you could. Through his visor, the Mandalorian watched the streaks of starlight dance across your face and reflect in your eyes. Your gaze fell back to him, and he was certain that you were doing the same as him. Beskar was an extremely reflective metal, so the lightshow on him must have been interesting at the very least.

You stepped ever closer to him, reaching your hand out for him to take. Casual physical touch was something the Mandalorian was still getting used to, but you always made it easy. Your fingers interlaced with his gloved one, tenderly stroking his hand.

“You look exhausted,” the Mandalorian remarked.

You sighed dramatically. “I look better than I feel.”

The Mandalorian stilled for a moment, lost in thought, before speaking again.

“Come here.”

He reached out and grabbed both your hands, pulling you forward. With two lazy footsteps, you stood in between your partner’s legs and looked down at him. Another tug forward finally clued you in to what the beskar-clad man’s intentions were. Carefully, you placed a knee on one side of his lap, snug between it and the chair. When the Mandalorian was sure you were stable, he got you to do the same with the other leg. You now straddled his lap, eye level with the dark, t-shaped visor of his helmet. 

You leaned forward and rested your head in the crook of the Mandalorian’s neck. It was one of the few areas not covered by armour, so that meant it was one of the coziest to cuddle in to. The Mandalorian began to rub his hand up and down the length of your back. The leather of the glove had been warmed up by his hot hand, creating a sort of make-shit heating pad.

The current position you currently sat in was one the Mandalorian found himself in more often than not. The times where he was running on fumes and still wouldn’t go to bed, or when the void of space was too cold, you would go hunting for the Mandalorian. He was always in the cockpit, and would refuse to move until he finished what he wanted to finish. You would make yourself cozy on his lap and stubbornly wait for him to come to bed. Some nights the two of you would just fall asleep right there in the captain's chair. It was hell on the Mandalorain’s neck when he woke up, but that was a price he was willing to pay.

For everything you did for him, comfort was the least he could do for you. You never complained about your situation or any other cards this life dealt you. You took everything with a grateful smile on your face and continued with your day. It drove the Mandalorian mad. Why would someone as kind and resilient as you continually subject yourself to the life of a bounty hunter? You always told him it was because you loved him and the child, but that only made him more frustrated with himself. The Mandalorian wanted more for you, to give you more, but he selfishly kept you by his side.

Your fingers tapped gently on the bottom of his helmet, trying to gain his attention.

“I can feel the gears in your head moving. Talk to me, Shiny.”

Your gaze held so much adoration it almost hurt. It made him feel all the more guilty for your stubbornness to stay. Once night, when sleep eluded both of you, you had a long conversation with a lot of ‘what ifs.’ You expressed to him your desire to settle somewhere preeminent with him and the child. Live a life away from the scum and danger in the galaxy. Your simple dream always played in the back of the Mandalorain’s head like a recording on a constant loop. The thought slowly crept up on him from time to time, and ate away at him. It was like a void was consuming him, replacing all thoughts in favour of that one.

“Why do you stay? Here, I mean. With me.”

You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to speak, but the Mandalorian didn’t have to be a mind reader to know exactly what was about to come out of your mouth.

“What if this is all it is? Life on the run and constantly looking over your shoulder. Never being truly safe? What could I possibly give you to keep you here?”

The Mandalorian was going to continue on his tirade, but he was stopped by a warm hand on his thigh. His visor snapped to you, where you sat looking at him with an agonizingly soft expression. Your eyes seemed to speak novels with only a glance, and it never failed to set his heart aflame. He could practically hear all the words that would typically come from you. Words of comfort, praise and kindness acted like a spell, distracting the Mandalorian from whatever harmful thoughts plagued his mind.

“What could you give me?”

Your smile grew wide and you let out a breathless chuckle when you spoke. It caught the Mandalorian off guard, how rhetorically you asked. As if it was the stupidest question he had ever asked you. Your grip on his thigh tightened for a brief moment in a comforting gesture.

“Din, what haven’t you given me?”

The hand on his thigh moved to the gloved hand that rested mere inches from it. Your hands were almost as distracting as your eyes. Their duality mesmerized and amazed him. One moment they’d be ending someone’s life, and the next they’d be gently rocking his foundling to sleep. In a way, it was a lot like the Mandalorian himself. But now, those hands tenderly held one of his. They fiddled with each finger, and slowly worked their way down to the base of the glove and began to peel it back.

“For one, you gave me a home,” you continued.

Delicate fingers, far smaller than his own, worked their way under the fabric and rested themselves between it and the Mandalorian’s palm. He was certain that you could feel his pulse quicken, but you said nothing and continued.

“I had nothing. I slept in the uninsulated attic of a rundown house. I made enough credits for food and rent and that was it. I owned nothing but the clothes on my back.”

Your hand snuck further into the glove, pushing the fabric upwards.

“I am safe here. I have a bed, I have four walls and a roof and I have food in my stomach. I no longer have to wonder about starvation or the cold.”

It always broke the Mandalorain’s heart to hear you talk about your past. He knew it was rough, but you didn’t like to go into detail. Since you respected his privacy he respected yours, no matter how curious you both were about each other.

“You gave me a child,” you grinned.

Your fingers now laced themselves around the Mandalorians under what remained of the glove. Once again, he was grateful for his helmet. He knew exactly what you meant by your comment, but it still made the Mandalorian’s face look like a colourful holiday light. 

“A beautifully odd little boy that I love more than anything. I never thought I would get to be a parent, but you came into my life and gave me the chance to be one. I would happily give my life if it meant protecting him.”

That was something the Mandalorian already knew about you. From the second you had joined his crew, you and the child connected. At times your bond made the Mandalorian a little jealous. He was the child’s father before you were his parent, so how come he was playing second fiddle? But then the Mandalorian would come home from a hunt and see you with the child in your arms. The little green baby would squeal and babble excitedly, making grabby hands as he did so. The thoughts of jealousy would melt away, and be replaced with something much softer. Emotions that the Mandalorian had been a stranger to and couldn’t describe. But he felt light and warmth and it was like every bad thing in the galaxy no longer existed, and it was just the Mandalorian and his family. His clan.

As you spoke, you moved your hand even further into the bounty hunter’s glove, if it were at all possible. Your other hand had gone to work at the tips, gently wriggling them off his fingers. The Mandalorian’s hand was completely free now, and you held the orange-tipped glove in your hand. Your other still hand tightly onto his own. Even a year ago, he would have had serious reservations about having any part of himself so exposed. But you had toppled every wall the Mandalorian built, and you did so without even trying. Every time you brought him food or tended to his wounds or even smiled at him, he could feel his resolve being chipped away. 

“Most importantly, you gave me you. You, who always has my back. You, who takes care of me and the kid. You, who I somehow tricked into falling in love with me. You hold my heart in your hands because it is yours, and will always be yours.”

The Mandalorian’s worn hand was brought up to your soft lips, where you planted a kiss even softer than your gaze. Your eye contact with the Mandalorian remained unbroken, and he swore he felt his heart explode.

It felt like only yesterday that the two of you were finally honest about your feelings for one another. It was the beginning of a new life for those aboard the Razor Crest. Since a romantic relationship with, you know, feelings, was new territory for the both of you, you took it slow. There was no “official” label that the two of you put on your relationship. Two people who collected bounties together, raised a child together, hooked up sometimes and were deeply in love. Partners worked just fine, and you were happy with it.

It was the domestic, quiet moments that made it so real for Din Djarin. The moments where it was just him, his ship and his family always left him feeling the most at ease. When the cold of hyperspace was too much, and he found himself bunkered down with you in the hidden captain's quarters; the only sounds were the sounds of your breathing and the groan of the ship. When he watched you feed and take care of his foundling, and his chest felt like it was full of static electricity. And moments like this in the cockpit, where he could watch thousands of stars dance across your face as the Crest passed. You were tantalizing. 

The Mandalorian wished he was better with words. Whenever he needed them most, they alluded him. He showed his love for you through his actions, and that more than enough for you. But you would come out of left field with a compliment, and the fearsome bounty hunter found himself speechless. You would laugh your musical laugh, tell him you loved him and continue on your way. But when the Mandalorian could find his missing words, you would be caught off guard, and it would be his turn to be smug. He liked those moments.

While he was lost in his thoughts, you snuck the glove off the Mandalorian’s remaining hand. His hands, now bare, moved to each side of your face. You smiled up at him and placed a hand on his own, closing your eyes and taking the moment in. The two times you looked the most at peace were when you were asleep, and when you were alone together. The Mandalorian had never met someone who was always so happy to be in his presence, and it was times like this where he knew he never wanted to let you go. 

It was the push he needed to muster the courage to do something he had spent a long time debating on. It had been an even longer time since he met Bo-Katan, the woman who gave him the most life shattering news he could have imagined: that his former clan, the people that saved him as a child and raised him as one of their own, were zealots. Extremists who saw the ancient way of the Mandalore as the only way Mandalorians should live. He had a hard time coming to grips with this news and if the Mandalorian was being honest, he still really hadn’t. But you had been with him for every second of his internal battle. You told him that just because their way was different, that didn’t mean they were bad people, or less Mandalorian than other clans.

You also told the Mandalorian that he was free to choose who he wanted to be, and there was no wrong way to express his religion. He truly appreciated your words of reassurance, even if he had trouble showing it. Just hearing that someone was in his corner was enough to keep him from going off the deep end. The Mandalorian knew it caused you pain to see him go through this identity crisis, but you gave him your undying support nonetheless.

The Mandalorian called your name softly, shakily, causing you to reopen your eyes and look into the dark visor once again. He felt his courage falter momentarily, but with a deep breath he recollected himself. The Mandalorian couldn’t back down now because he was unsure of how long it would take to work himself back up to this point. 

“You know that I love you right?”

“You might have said so once or twice,” you joked. 

Under the beskar, the Mandalorian smiled. 

“You and the kid are everything to me. You give me a reason to wake up in the mornings, to fight to make it home when I leave.”

You sat quietly, listening to the Mandalorian’s words. He was grateful, since he feared any interruption would cause him to mess up. He continued his speech, his words growing shakier and more uncertain with every sentence. He knew he probably sounded scared, but that was because he was. The Mandalorian, whose very name sparked fear, tripping over his own words in front of his partner. He knew that if it were any other time, he was sure that you would have teased him about it. But the seriousness of what he was saying seemed to reach you since you looked at him with a cautious gaze.

“You remind me every day that it is safe here, with you. I often forget, since my life has been nothing but danger. I can be vulnerable around you. I can be myself around you.”

Your hand tightened encouragingly around his hand, but you remained silent.

“I’ve thought a lot about that. Who I am, and who I want to be. It hasn’t been...easy. It was like my entire identity was pulled out from under me. The only thing that kept me sane was knowing no matter what came of this, you would be there.”

The Mandalorian’s favourite smile, the one that could put any star to shame, crept back onto your face. 

“I think I finally know what it is that I want.”

You sighed happily and planted a kiss on the Mandalorian’s palm.

“I’m glad,” you said, “I know it’s been difficult for you.”

The Mandalorian gently stroked your cheek with his thumb, before removing both hands completely. Reaching forward, he took both your hands in his and held them. The two of you stared at each other for another moment, before the Mandalorian started to move your hands to his helmet. When your fingers brushed against the metal, you yanked them back. It was as if touching it burned you. There was a nervous look in your eye and your hands hovered in the air, unsure of where to go next.

“Mando, what are you doing?”

It wasn’t a question of disgust or accusation. It was one of genuine concern and confusion. Your respect for his creed was something that drew the Mandalorian to your company. Your knowledge of the Mandalore wasn’t vast, but you took everything you did learn to heart. Everything you learned, you put into practice immediately. The first few months you were on the Razor Crest, you announced yourself before entering any room the bounty hunter was in. He wasn’t as close to you then and found it mildly annoying, so he asked you to stop. You technically did but switched to knocking instead. 

Little acts of trust like that sent the Mandalorian down a dangerous slope that ended with him falling in love. You were a powerful force of nature that kept him on his toes in the best ways possible. 

“I want to give myself to you. All of myself. I don’t want there to be any more barriers between us.”

“Are you sure you want to do this? You know what’ll happen if you take it off.”

The silver helmet dipped forward once. A nod.

“I do. And as long as you’re here, by my side, nothing else matters.”

You moved first. Your hands slowly inched forward until they reached the helmet once again. They sat in the cheek divots on either side, chilling your fingers. Larger hands placed themselves atop your own.

“Last chance,” you warned.

The Mandalorian’s hands began to lift yours, as well as his helmet. Throughout his life, his devotion to the creed had been steadfast. He had fully intended on living by it and dying by it, making exceptions for no one. But life was funny. It loved throwing curveballs and wrenches into people’s lives and turning them upside down. The Mandalorian never planned on betraying the guild and kidnapping a child, and he sure as hell didn’t plan on breaking his creed because he fell in love. Yup. It sure was funny that way.

There were a handful of moments whenever the Mandalorian took his helmet off where he couldn’t see. It only lasted a second, but in that second you had closed your eyes. In your hands, you held the helm of the Mandalore. The helm the Mandalorian had sworn never to remove. He didn’t need his visor to know that your heart was going a mile a minute and that you were just as nervous as he was. 

“Last, last chance, Mando,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

The Mandalorian’s hands again found their spot on either side of your face. You took a shuddering breath, and the bounty hunter found himself doing the same.

“Open your eyes.”

You swallowed hard and opened your eyes slowly. The Mandalorian had never seen your eyes without the visor on. His vision had always been obstructed by a screen. But now, as you stared at him with wonder and amazement, he knew he would never see anything as beautiful. Your eyes shifted quickly, trying your best to see everything at once. You took in his features one by one, starting with his hair.   
Dark brown, slightly shaggy curls fell gently onto his forehead. They had been disturbed by the helmet, leaving some flattened or out of place. Next were his eyes. Warm and brown and soul-piercing. You swore you could always feel them looking at you, even when hidden behind the visor. His nose, which you had bumped with your own many times, looked the way it felt. A little larger than average, and strong. His lips were last. You had plenty of experience in that arena since they had been on yours many times under the cover of darkness. Yes, they were as soft as they looked. In preparation for this moment, the Mandalorian had shaved to make himself look a little neater. You were happy that the mustache that never failed to tickle you was still there.

Your hands explored his face as your eyes did, despite the fact you already knew what he felt like. The stunned smile you wore didn’t falter as you familiarized yourself with the new face before you. The Mandalorian knew you weren't so shallow, but a part of him feared that when you finally saw him, you would leave. But your reaction was all the conformation he needed to put those doubtful thoughts to rest.

“Hello, Din Djarin,” you whispered.

The Mandalorian smiled, and for the first time, you saw it.

“Hello, yourself.”

A single tear fell from your eye, catching your partner off guard. When it reached his thumb, he wiped it away. You shot him a thankful smile and took a deep breath to steady yourself. You shifted your body forwards, close enough that there were mere inches separating you. You rested your forehead against the Mandalorian’s, still thinking of his creed. 

The relief of no longer having to hide was indescribable. It was like the weight of the sky had been lifted off the Mandalorian’s shoulders. There was nothing stopping him from doing what he wanted to do. He no longer had to wait for the cover of darkness to kiss you. That luxury was now free to the Mandalorian whenever he wanted. Sitting down with you and the kid and eating together used to be a dream. The Mandalorian felt like he was on top of the world, and he had no idea where to start. Luckily, you made the choice for him.

Your lips connected with his and the Mandalorian felt his entire body ignite. His arms snaked their way around your back, pulling you closer. Your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, and your hand made its way into the jungle that was his hair. It was a moment of pure bliss that the Mandalorian had only ever fantasized about. You gave a small tug to the hair at the base of the Mandalorain’s neck, and he gave a hum of approval. He shifted you without breaking the kiss, leaving no parts of your bodies unconnected.

When the need for air became too much, you pulled apart to breathe. After a couple of deep breaths, you started to laugh. Your laughter followed you until your head came to rest in the crook of his neck. A free hand began absentmindedly rubbing up and down your back.

“Am I that ugly?” he asked, a little nervous the answer would be yes.

“No, it’s not that. Do you remember what I said to you after our first kiss?”

The Mandalorian had to think for a moment. The details he tended to focus on from that day involved you almost dying and then you kissing him silly. The words were fogged in his memories, but he fought to remember. When it eventually came back to the Mandalorian, he let out an annoyed groan. Before he could open his mouth to make some snide comment, his words were stolen from him.  
Soft kisses peppered themselves against the column of the Mandalorain’s neck, moving agonizingly slowly from the base upwards. An almost strangled sigh fought its way out of the bounty hunter by the time you made it back to his cheek. An innocent smile played on your face, before going back to work. The kisses turned sporadic, being placed everywhere on his face that they could reach. It was almost torturous how they moved. They went to every spot on the Mandalorain’s face except for the one place he wanted them, which was his own. He made a move to properly kiss you, but you pulled back before he could.

“I stand by what I said that day. You are handsome.”

The Mandalorian moved so fast he put speeders to shame. His lips were back on yours, and you smiled wickedly into the kiss. You placed your hands back on the Mandalorain’s face, relishing in the fact that you could actually do so. You learned quickly that it wasn’t just you enjoying it. Every touch from you seemed to send the Mandalorian into overdrive, causing the kiss to become more and more urgent. Your teeth messily clacked together, but neither of you could find it in yourselves to care.

The Mandalorian knew that he never wanted to be without you. That was a given. But he never realized how much he truly needed you until he forced himself to think about it. Holding and kissing you know was one of these moments. Your complete acceptance of him, whether he had chosen to keep the helmet on or not, was everything for the turbulent man. He knew that with you by his side, he could take on anything that was thrown at him. He could only hope you felt such security with him.

When you pulled back, the Mandalorian got to watch the starlight dance on you. With his own eyes, it was a sight he would never tire of. You looked ethereal. Like there was no possible way that you could be real. But you were, and you were sitting in the cockpit of his ship, kissing him. The Mandalorian reached up and moved a stray strand of hair from your face, causing you to smile widely down at him.

If Din Djarin had died at that moment, he knew he would have died the happiest man in the galaxy.


End file.
